Before the Storm
by thesilkentent
Summary: Anne Boleyn created a storm in England. But before she was the star of the English court, she was a fixture in the French court. Loosely based around what little information available about Anne's adolescence in France.
1. April 4 1520

April 4, 1520

Anne Boleyn glanced up at him through her eyelashes and giggled flirtatiously. _Men are so…easily captured_, she thought.

Lord Thomas Brown gaped openly at the nineteen year old. Even in French court, Anne was by far the most beautiful woman he had ever seen with her long dark locks and mysterious eyes. But she wasn't just beautiful; it was if she had taken root somewhere deep in his soul never to release him. Nervously, he approached her.

"May I have this dance?" he practically whispered. Anne accepted his outreached hand and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor.

"I have been thinking about you," he murmured into her little ears. Anne tried her best to look demure. "My lord, haven't you anything better to think about? Perhaps your wife?"

A flush filled Thomas's cheeks. "Lady Anne, she is not my wife," he breathed. "We are merely betrothed."

"It's a long way from bended knee to a kiss in the church," Anne said slyly before changing partners.

While Anne danced with this lord and that lord, she couldn't help but to feel giddy inside. Gaining a man's attention—especially one of such wealth—was a rush to her self-esteem. Every girl wanted to be noticed, and luckily for Anne, she was.

After being at French court for almost five years, Anne had been well trained in lessons of court. At sixteen, a lady of the court had been tossed out on the street like a common whore for getting pregnant after her husband died. After that debacle, herbs were secretly traded almost daily in the queen's rooms that were said to prevent unwanted births. At seventeen, she had spied on Sir George who had an _actual_ whore in his bed. At eighteen, she listened as the ladies spoke of kissing in the French way…with mouths open! Who knew what wonders she would learn of at nineteen?

As Anne made her way back to the ladies of the court, she swept her eyes across the hall; she couldn't help but notice almost every man had his eyes on her hips.

"Qu'est-ce que dans vos pensées?" Claudine asked Anne the next morning.

Claudine was Francis's daughter and Anne's closest friend at court. Anne's opposite, she was a French rose and quietly intelligent. Anne complemented her nicely.

"Pas une chose," Anne said mysteriously, winking at Claudine.

Claudine put down her embroidery. "You're not thinking of Lord Thomas, are you?" she whispered. Anne was silent. "Anne, you can't! He's engaged!"

"Shh! Someone may hear you. No, I'm not, but even if I was, he's betrothed, and betrothed is not married."

Claudine gaped. "Surely you cannot be serious." She looked around to make sure no one else was listening. "You're reaching too high, Anne," she whispered. "The king approved Lord Thomas's match to Lady Marie himself, and he won't take away his approval."

Anne dropped her own embroidery in her lap. "Claudine, I am not reaching for Lord Thomas. I'm only teasing. Both you and him. Besides Marie would smother me in my sleep."

Both girls glanced over to Marie, sitting on the other side of the room singing to the queen. Ringlets of blonde hair peeked out from under her hood, and her blue eyes were visible from the other side of the room. She looked beautiful, but her outer beauty hid a malicious nature.

"It's only a matter of time before you end up with wine on your best gown," Claudine said knowingly. Just one year before, Lady Marie had thrown wine onto a girl's dress just for flirting with Thomas. Although the ladies knew what had truly transpired, the men were all too mesmerized by Marie's porcelain skin to notice her trespasses.

Anne laughed loudly. "I would like to see her try," she said playfully.

Anne's laugh caught Marie's attention. "Lady Boleyn, won't you tell us what's so funny? I'm sure we could all use a laugh on this dreary day," she said.

"Non-sens," Anne said.

"S'il vous plait. Je tiens."

By this point, Anne and Marie had captured the attention of everyone in the queen's rooms. Even the musicians had ceased playing.

Anne smiled serenely. "I was just telling Lady Claudine that I loved rain, and she said she would like to ride in it. The thought of our Claudine getting her skirts muddy was too funny for me to keep in my laughter."

The rest of the ladies giggled softly, but Marie scoffed. "That's the most ridiculous—"

A pageboy at the door interrupted her. "Lady Boleyn, you have a letter from England," he said crossing the threshold to Anne.

"Oh, my sister!" Anne exclaimed. She tore the seal and read the letter hungrily.

The ladies were silent, Claudine included. Mary, Anne's sister, had gone back to England from the French court the year before after having an affair with the king. The subject was still taboo, but Anne was indifferent towards the attitude toward her sister.

"She's married!" Anne said, a smile spreading over her face. "She's Mary Carey now!"

The ladies smiled politely, but the tension was still evident. As Anne went to grab some parchment and ink, she realized how apathetic she felt about the apparent distaste the ladies of the French court felt for her sister.

Just one more thing that set her apart from them.


	2. May 1 1520

May 1, 1520

The whole court flitted around, gowns swishing, horses coming to and fro with news from England. Seamstresses sewed until the blisters on their fingertips swelled and bled. The kitchen felt like hell itself with the ovens and stovetops constantly aflame. Courtiers were busy preparing their wardrobes and deciding what to take.

The court had just gotten the news that the French and English court would meet together so the two European kings could discuss the treaty of London, a treaty that would bind the continent in peace. The meeting itself lent a bit of irony to the peace; it would be a war of the princes to see who was the most glamorous ruler in Europe. And it was causing a little bit of stress in court.

Anne, though, was an ice queen, and the court couldn't help but envy her coolness.

**Three Weeks Earlier**

_Anne, _

_I hope you are still enjoying France. I miss you everyday. Only the cruelest of fates would separate sisters, but I hope you will be joining me at King Henry's court soon. We are going to be meeting even sooner—there has been talk of a meeting between the French and the English. Tell no one. The king would be furious if I told you. Besides the last thing we need now is more rumors of me in France…however true they may be. _

_Order new dresses from the seamstresses immediately but do so quietly as to not arouse suspicion. _

_I'll see you in Calais._

_Mary_

Of course, Anne had tossed the letter into the fire immediately and told no one—not even Claudine. As Lady Marie had tossed her head and ordered the ladies around for weeks, Anne was tempted to whisper the rumor into her ear and prove herself to be dominant. It was only for the love of her sister that she kept her cool.

The letter did make her suspicious though. _How would_ _Mary know the English king's secrets before the French court?_

It wasn't until one of the seamstresses brought Anne's dresses into the queen's room one morning after Mass that any suspicion was brought on to her.

"How lucky of you that you had already ordered new dresses," remarked Lady Marie jealously. She had only been able to order one new dress with the high demand of the rest of the court.

Anne smiled smoothly. "Yes, I was very fortunate. My lord father had just sent over some money just a few weeks ago."

"It's a shame you had to get so many though. I'm afraid that's what happens when you're unaccustomed to fine dining: you begin to look like a pig at the king's own table."

Lady Claudine coughed uncomfortably. _Thank God the queen is at a special Mass_ Anne thought. She couldn't bear for anyone else to witness this humiliation.

Anne cleared her throat. "I am glad to have begun to fill my dresses more," she said. "I was afraid I would end up twenty-three with only a body of a kitchen boy."

Lady Marie stared coldly at Anne. "Better a body of a kitchen boy than a body that no one will hold." Lady Mary stood and gestured to a few of her minions. "Shall we go for a stroll in the gardens? It's beginning to fill a little…" she glanced at Anne. "Cramped in here."

As Lady Marie sauntered out, Anne vowed to never again let her have the last word. She would rise higher than all of them, she promised herself. And she would punish those who stood in her way.


End file.
